SMOG Alert -- Incoming!

I had my hair styled today. My hairdresser has moved from the shop where he used to work into a nice new salon he has added to the back of his house on his horse farm. Think Truvy Jones from Steel Magnolias meets Jonathon from Blow Out. The salon is comfy and casual with gossip and lots of local humor mixed with a city salon decor of sophisticated golden walls with black and mixed metal accessories and track lighting. You have to drive up a dirt road to get there and I was a bit leery but once inside, it is a haven. Cool!

I had decided to have my hair foiled. I've never had it done before and it went along surprisingly quickly. I was foiled and "processing," reading a magazine and listening to some dandy John Mayer muzak, wishing I had brought my digital camera so I could take pix of my head looking like a silver Christmas tree when my cell phone rang.

Now, I may have mentioned that my stepson is getting married in a few weeks. There are a whole lotta wedding preparations going on here in central and north Florida. On the cell was my husband's First Wife, Mother of the Groom, AKA, FW-MOG. That makes me SMOG -- Step Mother Of the Groom

As near as I could tell, W4D's FW, MOG wanted to discuss wedding gifts. A month or so ago I told W4D that I wanted to either give the newlyweds their honeymoon trip or a computer system since they don't have one at all. We went ahead and purchased a dandy new computer and printer for their wedding gift and apparently, FW-MOG wanted to check and make sure which we had decided to give so she could give them the other. I am never again telling W4D anything personal because obviously, after 34 years, he still blabs everything to FW. But, I digress.

I was sitting in a lounge chair at the salon, wearing my Christmas tree foil chapeau, looking somewhat like that aerial atop that space age building from the Jetson's, trying to concentrate on Architectural Digest while I wistfully glanced out the corner of my eye at the trashy Star headlines, other gossip rags and the movie mags. When your stylist personally selects Architectural Digest for you to peruse, one tries not to ruin the illusion.

Some new peppy tune that I did not know started blasting from my purse. W4D has changed the cell ring and I do not recognize it. It takes a while to realize that it is the cell. I fumbled for the phone.

"This is Flaurella," I said, sorta... since that isn't my real name but I always answer the phones for business by saying "This is blah-blah" since it is habit.

"Hello kkkkkkkkKk This is kKKKKKkkkk."

I can't hear diddley. I think it is because my cell phone antennae is touching my foiled Christmas tree head. It occurs to me that maybe I can get electrocuted if that little silver ball atop the cell antennae touches the wet hair color goop that is wrapped in foil all over my head.

Cautiously, holding the phone as far away from my head as possible, I said, "HelloooOOOoo! Hellooo? I can't hear you."

"KKKKkkkKKKKkkKKKk KKkkkkkkkkkkkkkk kkkkk kkkkkkkkk kkkkk."

Damn! I can't hear a thing so I head over to the door, open it and stick my head out into the friggin' rain. A small overhang protects my expensive foiled head and the thunder rumbles. (sick of rain, sick of rain!)

"kkkkKKKkkk KKKKKKkk kkk kkk kkk kkkkkkk" Can I speak to Frank?"

"I can't hear you. Please call me back!"

"kkkkKKKkkk KKKKKKkk kkk kkk kkk kkkkkkk"

The cell rings again. This time I am sure who it is but I have no idea what she wants. Another failed communication but at least my head isn't getting zapped by electricity. Still, I wonder if the foil is fouling up the transmission since I can only make out 3 or 4 words here and there.

I am certain FW-MOG thinks I am toying with her at this point and I can't help but grin. It's not true but it's a golden opportunity.

After yet another failed attempt to communicate, I suggest another call back. At this point, I went outside onto the stoop and waited for the call. Grrrr.

Finally, after catching about a third of the call on three separate occasions, I figured out what MOG wanted from SMOG. We bought the computer system so she wants to give the couple the honeymoon. Fine. Perfect. Damned head foil ruins cell phone reception. Sorry. I guess I shoulda just turned the phone off while I was indisposed and head foiled.

This eve, my stepson phoned. I mentioned that I had spoken with his mom today.

"Really?" he said. "She's having so much trouble with that cell phone of hers that I can't hear her even on my brand new state of the art cell. She needs to dump that cell and get a new one."

Never again will I stand in the rain with my head foiled like a Christmas tree to try to take a cell call from any former wives of W4D. Nope. Not gonna do it.

And again, I am going to keep harping on this. If you haven't yet made a $$ donation to the Red Cross for relief of victims of Hurricane Katrina, get yer butt over to www.redcross.org right this minute. Be thankful for your comfortable life and help those in need.

Please.